Choices
by siriuslives394
Summary: After Harry defeats Voldemort he has choices to make. What will he choose to do with the rest of his life? Independant!Harry. Ignores HBP. Going to replace the third chapter.
1. Chapter One

Choices

**COMPLETELY IGNORES HBP**

He killed Voldemort. The words even sounded strange to Harry. He was numb with shock; his sweaty hand still tightly gripping his wand. He could hear the sounds of battle still behind him; they were, however, drowned out with the roaring in his head.

Dead. Nope, still not believable. As if on his own accord his head turned to view those fighting for what they believed in. He could see people dead. Their bodies littered the ground like the carpet. They fought and died for two people. Voldemort and Dumbledore.

The emotions that Harry felt right then were not those one would expect. He felt anger. Anger at Voldemort for making him a murderer. Anger at Dumbledore for so cruelly manipulating Harry throughout his life.

The last few years had been trying for Harry. He studied, and studied hard. He knew he had to kill Voldemort. But Harry's increasing dislike of Dumbledore didn't help.

In Harry's head he could list of the time that Dumbledore could have done something to prevent a tragedy. The first time being young Tom Riddle, perhaps if Dumbledore had put effort into Riddle's upbringing he could have prevented Voldemort form happening. Doubtlessly Voldemort was a powerful wizard, if that power had been nurtured in a caring environment, instead of an orphanage, he could have done much good.

The list went on and on.

Harry snapped. He had had enough.

A/N: Hey, my first attempt to write something other than an oneshot. Ok, this is a prologue. I know these types of 'Manipulative!Dumbledore' stories are overrated and overused. Oh well. I wanted to write one, so I did. Oooh this story is going to be so full of teen angst :). Well... I think it is. Haven't exactly gotten to that part yet. Oh, I don't really have anything against Dumbles, its just so much fun to make him evil! I can also assure you that any future chapters will be much longer, this was kind of a trial run. I have my doubts about this story in general. Please review and tell me whether or not it's worth salvaging. Oh, as a side thought, I've been told that my writing portrays me as a different age as I am, would you be so kind as to tell me how old I sound? Thanks for... just bothering to read this!


	2. Chapter Two

A/N: Hey, I got around to writing the next chapter. Yay me! Anyway, thank you to those who reviewed, you rock! While I'm still not sure what direction this story is going in, it'll probably be either one where Harry becomes independent of OOTP, or one where he sends all his knowledge to his one year old self. I'm currently favoring the latter. God, I never appreciated just how long it takes to write this stuff! Yeah, I'm a painfully slow typer. My dialogue might be - is - shoddy, there's hardly any dialogue in any of my original stories. I prefer to write either stories all dialogue, or none at all. Oh, I'm not sure whether this will majorly affect the story at all, but Sirius is **not dead.** As it is my story, I decided to... alter that a bit. Thank you.

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. I don't own Harry Potter. Hell, I don't even own the plot, doubtlessly, it has been done before. I do, however, own a wide collection of books. That's good enough for me. To recap, I don't own Harry Potter.

**Chapter Two - The Chamber**

Grimmauld Place was in an uproar. Harry Potter was gone.

They weren't worried about him having been kidnapped. He had in fact returned with them after the battle. The Order Of The Phoenix had won the battle. That was mostly due to the fact that once Voldemort died most of the Death Eaters had fled.

Once back at headquarters Harry immediately left for his room. Everyone left him alone as they took the death toll most figured that he deserved some alone time. However, when someone did decide check on him, they found an empty room.

He had taken all of his worldly possessions, which, admittedly, wasn't a lot, and left a rather... expressive letter.

The first paragraph mostly contained Harry venting his anger and frustrations, most of which were completely and utterly justified. After that, however, he did calm down enough to explain the reasoning behind his decision to leave. He openly criticized Dumbledore's decision to leave him with the Dursleys and the lack of contact with the wizarding world. He questioned the intelligence behind the decision to with hold any - and all - important information from him.

Harry also felt that the only reason that Dumbledore kept him around as long as he had was so that he - Harry - could kill Voldemort, and now that he had done that, there was really no need for him to stay.

He then informed them that he would not be contacting anyone and all he wanted to do right now was relax. He also requested that no one look for him. Naturally, his request was ignored, and search parties were already being arranged. They needed The Boy-Who-Lived back with them. What would the wizarding world think if directly after he had killed Voldemort, he had run away? Something that he had never done while facing the prospect of fighting the most powerful, and most evil, wizard in existence, yet found that it was necessary to flee his supposed 'friends' and allies.

They needed him, even now, after Voldemort's defeat. The Wizarding World thought of Harry as 'the hero that defeated the Dark Lord', the fact that he had done this, not once, but _twice_, made him an incredibly important person in the eyes of the wizarding world.

That displeased Dumbledore. He had always been renowned as the one who had defeated Grindelwald, as an incredibly powerful man, as the leader or the Light. He would still be credited as Harry's mentor, yet judging from what Harry had written; he wasn't feeling incredibly charitable towards him.

The problem was that no one knew where he would go. He wouldn't go to the Dursleys, they had checked local inns, but there was no sign of him. They didn't, however, check in the most obvious place: Hogwarts. Currently, Harry Potter was in the bowels of Hogwarts, the Chamber of Secrets.

HP-HP-HP

After Harry had composed his letter to The Order, he had flooed to Hogwarts. He really didn't want to know how many more people had been killed due to a mad man's quest for power. Harry knew that it wasn't his fault. But he couldn't help but feel bitter, he knew that things were hidden from him, he also knew that the fact that he had run off _after _killing Voldemort was going to effect how Dumbledore, his friends, and the public, reacted to it.

Harry entered the girl's bathroom, brushing by Myrtle, who seemed just as depressed as always. Harry quickly hissed _'Open'_ at the tap. It opened into the pipe that he and Ron had gone through, so long ago, to rescue Ginny.

Harry surveyed the dilapidated chamber with a critical eye. He didn't exactly enjoy being there, but he knew that it was very safe; he was the only Parselmouth still alive. Harry decided that it was top priority to remove the smelly, dead Basilisk from the middle of the chamber. Instead of going through a long, complicated process involving actually relocating the Basilisk whilst it was still... well, big and dead, Harry opted to simply shrink it and place it in the far, far corner of the chamber. It still absolutely _reeked._

Harry cleared the rubble that had fallen the first time he was in the chamber with Ron. Then he decided to look around, after all, he hadn't had the opportunity to do so while fighting off a young Tom Riddle and a basilisk.

At the back of the chamber there was a rather large door, holding his wand at the ready (just in case there was yet _another_ lethal animal that wanted to eat/maim him). After using a conveniently placed rock to try and poke open the door, you never know what sort of harm spells may be placed on a door. The door remained firmly in place. It was then that Harry considered that maybe Slytherin had made sure that only his descendants could open the door, thoughtfully, Harry hissed _'Open' _at the door. It swung open with a creak. It was dark inside. Harry whispered 'Lumos' and peered anxiously through the door.

At first glance it seemed to be a large, empty room. However, upon further inspection, one would see the bookcases and moving pictures that lined the walls. Harry was reluctant to touch anything. After all, this was Salazar Slytherin's chamber, perhaps even his inner most sanctum, who knew what kind of painful curses and nasty beasties were in place to prevent others from touching his things? However, his damned curiosity over-powered any reservations that he may have had.

He was entranced by the books, although he usually tried to avoid reading of any sort, these books were different. They seemed to call to him. Harry had thought that Hogwart's library was extensive, but even that had nothing on this. If Hermione knew about this, she would have, doubtlessly, forced her way into the chamber, then just blockade herself in with the books (a/n: I would.)

At the thought of his friend Harry felt some of his doubts come back, was he doing the right thing? Sure, he may dislike Dumbledore and the fact that he found it necessary to be in control of everything, but did he really need to isolate himself from all human contact - any contact with his friends - just because of one man?

No, he reassured himself, I made the right choice. I need some time to be by myself. Especially after killing a man. That is if you classified Voldemort as human. Most didn't.

Well, he thought to himself, to late now.

To try and rid himself of the depressing thoughts that were currently occupying his mind Harry threw himself at cleaning the room with ferocity. After all, the room was filthy, not being inhabited for nigh one thousand years must result in at least some grime. Also, Harry needed somewhere to sleep; he wasn't going to stay in the main chamber, who could sleep with a giant statue of Salazar Slytherin staring down at you?

After many a 'Scourgify' Harry felt that the Library was now fit for human habitation. It wasn't the most... comfortable of places, but it was suitable.

What Harry didn't know however, was that he was being watched through calm, collected eyes. The watcher was pondering.

HP-HP-HP

"What have we learned concerning Harry's current location?"

The room fell silent immediately upon hearing Albus Dumbledore's voice.

"Very little, sir," said Severus Snape smoothly. "We continued to look for Potter, we didn't let on to anyone else that we had... misplaced him"

"Very goo-"

"What?" Broke in Sirius, "You're talking about him as if he was a quill that you had 'misplaced'! This is a living, breathing boy that you're looking for! You don't 'misplace' boys!"

"Now Sirius," Dumbledore said in a calm, soothing voice, "I'm sure that Severus didn't mean it that way. Did you Severus?"

Snape did nothing other than raise an eyebrow in response. Allowing the others to infer what they wanted.

"Oh, yes. I'm sure _Snivellus _didn't mean it that way." Sirius drawled sarcastically.

"If you hadn't been incarcerated _Black, _I'm sure that you would have come to see Potter the same way as I do - an egotistical, self-centered, brat!" Snape spat, eyes flashing. "He reminds me of another," the corner of Snape's mouth curled upward. "Another egotistical, big-headed Potter, one that wasn't _at all a loss to the world_."

Sirius stood up quickly, knocking his chair over, infuriated by the casual mocking of his late best friend. He placed the palms of both his hands flat on the table, leaning towards Snape, looking positively murderous. You could almost feel the hate resituating off the two men.

Dumbledore raised a hand serenely. "Severus... Sirius... Now is not the time to fight. It is top priority to locate Harry and make sure that he is safe."

Sirius seemed to consider ignoring Dumbledore and attacking Snape anyway. After several seconds, he relented and sat back down in his chair, moodily, with a thump, knowing that finding Harry was more important than fighting with Snape.

Snape took a deep breath and schooled his face into the expressionless mask that it usually was.

Dumbledore waited for the Order members to calm themselves before looking around the kitchen of Number Twelve Grimmauld place and continuing.

"Who else needs to report?"

HP-HP-HP

Harry was absolutely exhausted.

Abandoning his entire life was bound to take something out of you. Such was his thought when he transfigured a quill in his pocket to a sleeping bag. It was only after removing his shoes and discovering just how cold it was in the chamber, that Harry quickly cast heating charms on himself and the sleeping bag.

Harry curled up in the sleeping bag, took off his glasses, and closed his eyes, hoping that sleep would find him. It didn't. Harry tried clearing his mind of any distracting thoughts, that didn't work. Then he tried counting sheep, whilst the thought of sheep jumping over a fence was sufficiently amusing, it failed most grievously at helping him sleep.

That's when he heard the humming. At first, Harry thought of it as a figment of his imagination, and then it increased in volume. Harry jammed his eyes shut, a desperate attempt to appear as if he _couldn't _hear the humming. All thoughts of sleep forgotten, he pushed down the urge to start humming right back! Try to drown out the noise.

Eventually, infuriated at the constant noise, Harry jumped up, grabbed his wand from his back pocket, muttered _'Lumos' _and began prowling the room, looking ready to kill. Harry passed bookshelf after bookshelf, still no sign of the mysterious hummer. It was only then that it dawned upon his that instead of being frightened by the prospect to finding that someone had broken into the _Chamber Of Secrets _and felt it necessary to _hum_, he was rather looking forward to the prospect of being able to talk to someone, _anyone_. Even if it was only exchanging insults and curses.

Well, he thought sardonically, I haven't gone stir-crazy or anything, have I?

Harry was nearing the back of the Chamber. The volume of the humming was increasing in volume, he was almost certain that it was coming from back here. Harry began to slow, considering if he really wanted to find whatever was lurking back here. Shaking his head, he quickly strode forward, ignoring any inhibitions that may have been nagging at the edge of his subconscious.

It seemed to him that Lumos barely penetrated the murky darkness that encompasses the rear of the chamber; he pulled one hand through the air in front of him, as if he were swimming.

The walls that were formerly covered my bookshelves were now uncovered, Harry could see the crumbling stone that had probably stood there, unseen, since the Founders time. Or, at least, Tom Riddle's time.

Suddenly, the humming stopped. So did Harry. Moving slowly and carefully, Harry turned around, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mysterious hummer. The light from his wand flashed across a pair of eyes.

"Ah!" Shouted Harry, jumping backwards, startled.

"Oh, do take the light out of my eyes."

Harry shifted the light, and tried to make out who was speaking to him. It was a portrait.

"Uh," Harry began, grasping for words. "Hello."

"Oh, yes. Very eloquent indeed. Now, tell me. Who are you?" The man inside the portrait appeared to be in his mid-thirties. He had black hair down to his earlobes, a short-cropped beard, and deep-set brown eyes beneath heavy eyebrows. He seemed to be used to people following his orders.

Harry finally found his tongue. Considering the fact that things just never went his way, he decided that telling an absolute stranger, regardless of whether or not it was a portrait, what his name was, was a bad idea. After all, people who found out his name often decided that it was a good idea to try and kill and/or maim him, something he never particularly enjoyed.

"Who are _you_?"

"Oh, a _snotty _one, is he?" The portrait jeered. "I'll have you know I'm... I'm... well, I can't quite remember just _who _I am, but I'll have you know that, when I remember, you'll be stunned."

Harry humored him and nodded. The portrait seemed to sense his obvious lack of belief. It responded my turning his back to Harry and started to hum. Again. Harry examined the nondescript frame that held to portrait, beneath it was a plaque. Engraved upon the plaque was one word. Jonathan.

"Er... is your name Jonathan, by any chance?" The portrait's occupant spun around, enlightenment overtook its face.

"Yes! That's it! Jonathan!" Jonathan seemed to pull himself together, straightening his back before looking imperiously down his nose at Harry. "Jonathan Fangor Slytherin. Son of Salazar Slytherin."

A/N: A/N: This is the result of several brownies. So... What did you think? Badly written and slow, I know, but these first few chapters are letting me introduce this story's plot. The interaction between Snape and Sirius was kind of forced; I've always had difficulties writing how their characters react to one another. Er... I'm my own beta, so if you could tell me of any errors, either grammatical, spelling, or relating to the original storyline, please do inform me! Remember to review. Patience is a virtue. Do expect to wait a few weeks for the next chapter. I have the end of the school year coming up, then I have to make arrangements to see my father and stepmother, then I change schools. So, please, do understand that my schedule is just a tad full. Oh, just a recommendation here, I strongly suggest that you find the song "I Couldn't Kill Albus Dumbledore" by Draco and the Malfoys, the lyrics are amusing. Thanks everyone. Love y'all. Ah, the portrait, I hope it isn't to overused. But I needed something that would push Harry into… doing something vital to the plot later. ;) As I had already written that he had left his friends, I had to use something else. Oh, and do pretend that people spoke English back then. Jonathan's middle name was... borrowed from LotR. If you have any ideas that you think will improve this story, please, don't feel shy and tell me.

Review. Cookies for constructive critism. Flames shall be used to make me s'mores... so, by all means, flame.


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